Date Night
by Mindy35
Summary: Jack/Liz. Their first.


Title: Date Night

Author: Mindy

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Tina's etc.

For: hamnapkin

Prompt: red dress

Spoilers: none

Pairing: Jack/Liz

Summary: Their first.

A/N: Inspired by the movie, obviously.

-x-x-x-

She usually doesn't wear red. Red is bold. The color of danger, the color of sex. And she's never been bold, dangerous, or considered herself particularly sexy. She can count on one hand the number of red items in her wardrobe and all of them were given to her by Jack. Including a pashmina wrap he gave her one Valentine's and some weirdly elfish underwear he gifted her two Christmases ago, supposedly as a joke. She knew it wasn't really a joke by the way his eyes lit up when she put them on (after a few heavily spiked eggnogs). Not that she kept them on very long. And she still remembers that long ago day when her then boss walked in on her trying on a deep burgundy gown he'd chosen for her. His reaction when he saw her elicited a secret thrill deep within her. A thrill she used to feel all the time with Jack, but hasn't felt now in a long while.

Not that they are having troubles, because they're not. They've only been married five years, so everything is still relatively new. But falling pregnant was difficult for them. And when she finally did, her pregnancy was a stressful one. She was practically bedridden for the last part of it, so sex has been off the agenda for quite some time. It's hard enough finding time for such activities with one new arrival. And they have two. Two precious, demanding, screaming bundles of joy. Still, there's a different kind of intimacy that comes with encountering such times. A different kind of intimacy that comes with witnessing each other bleary-eyed and dishevelled and wearing each other's clothes after too many nights of sleep deprivation. A different kind of intimacy that comes with falling asleep on your partners shoulder while he watches two tiny mouths simultaneously suckle your breasts. And she is certainly not complaining about their life together. Because Jack has been amazing though all of it, from the hormone injections to the smelly nappies. He is supportive and sweet and always there. She has a husband who adores her no matter what. And her children have a father who would do absolutely anything for them.

Which is why she's wearing red. Because Jack likes her in red. It's the least she could do for him on their first night out since before the babies were born. She saw the dress in a shop window recently while walking the kids, which is the only exercise she gets, apart from bobbing them up and down on her hips. She never thought she'd miss the gym. And she certainly never has the time to go shopping or actually try things on these days. But when she saw the dress she knew it would be something she could be comfortable in, something that might make her look a little more like a woman and less like a tired old dishrag. And she hoped it would disguise the remaining baby weight she hasn't yet shed from her hips and tummy.

She'd rushed out and bought it that morning, after Jack had gone to work, praying to high heaven the thing would fit. Which it does, snugly about the bust and waist and loose over her butt and thighs, the hem just grazing her knees. The amount of cleavage it reveals is a little obscene but that's more the fault of her currently gigantic mammaries than the cut of the dress. And she doesn't suppose Jack will object to this anyhow. Or to the fact that, while the nanny they finally agreed upon watched over the twins, she got herself waxed for the first time in months and even got a hair cut. The limp, long stands that used to hang down her back or get piled into a clip on top of her head are now short, manageable, bouncy curls. The last touch is make-up, a little powder and mascara and gloss which she is rushing to apply before Jack gets home. He was due fifteen minutes ago, and she's hoping he isn't too late or they will miss their reservation. She does need a little more time though, because she seems to have forgotten how to apply eye make-up since last wearing it. Every ten seconds she has to put her glasses back on and check what she's doing. Either her eyes or the eye shadow is uneven, she can't decide which. But she doesn't actually get the time to fix it because, after checking her face for the fifth time, she hears Jack's key in the door.

Liz takes off her glasses, leaving them on the bureau. She runs her hands over her hips, over the silky material of the red dress, examining her reflection in the mirror one last time. Then with a breath, she heads down the corridor to meet him.

"Hey," she says, entering the foyer as Jack is taking off his coat.

"Hey," he replies, his back to her. He turns away, instantly making a path for the nursery. "Are the twins still awake?"

"Ah, no," she says, tracking him with her eyes.

She follows him down the hall to the nursery, heels clicking against the hard floor, and stops on the threshold, leaning against the doorjamb. Jack has one hand in each crib, already whispering about his day to sleeping Hannah and Jack Jnr. She stands, head tilted, watching the sweet sight, half in the light, half in the dark. He is mid-sentence when he glances up and sees her, and stops.

"Wow." His eyes move down then up then down again, and Liz can't stem an involuntary, shy smile. Jack straightens, his mouth working wordlessly for a moment. "Wow, Lemon…"

And there it is. Exactly the reaction she was hoping for. That soft, reverent tone. Those lit-up blue eyes. She even likes the old, familiar use of her last name, even if it isn't her last name anymore.

"You said that," she murmurs, smiling.

"You look incredible," Jack whispers, moving across the darkened room towards her. "What's the occasion?"

She puts her back against the doorjamb as Jack joins her on the threshold. "We had a date," she reminds him, eyes reading his face: "which…you…forgot."

Jack sighs tiredly. "Liz, I'm sorry. I had a crazy day."

She shakes her head, runs a hand down his lapel. "It's okay, don't worry about it."

"No. I'll call _Plunder_ now-" he says, his voice low but urgent.

"No, no," she shakes her head again. "We won't get a table now anyway. It was a silly idea, we'll just…do it another night, okay?"

Jack puts his hands on her hips, moving closer. "But look at you."

She shrugs. "I'll keep. And I'm pretty tired-"

"No." He meets her eyes, shakes his head. "I'm taking you out tonight. We agreed. It's not too late."

"Jack-" She cuts herself off abruptly, turns her head.

They both fall silent as Jack Jnr starts to stir in his crib. Liz winces in anticipation, Jack puts a finger to his lips. And there's a moment of complete still before their son opens his mouth wide then lets out a piercing scream.

"Okay-" says Jack, no longer trying to keep his voice down: "You take the baby, I'll get the reservation. Meet you back here in ten."

And without another word, he rushes off to their bedroom, loosening his tie. Billie, their young, British nanny comes in from the other room, book in hand, but Liz waves her away, heading over to Jack Jnr's crib before he wakes Hannah with his crying. Billie disappears, going back to her study. And Liz slings a piece of muslin over the shoulder of her dress as he lifts little Jack out of the crib and into her arms, cooing in his little baby ear that everything is alright and mommy has him now. She eases herself into the rocking chair that Jack bought for the nursery because apparently his vision of a happy childhood hails from the nineteenth century. She must admit the rhythmic rocking is incredibly soothing. Within minutes, Jack Jnr has calmed, allowing her to kick off her shoes, which are already starting to pinch, and relax, her head dropping back against the high back of the chair. In the dark, quiet room, despite any excitement and all her preparations, her tiredness overwhelms her, flooding her bones and making her body sag gratefully in the comfy chair.

She starts, mid-snore, when Billie wakes her. It feels like she's slept for an hour but it's probably only a few minutes. She shakes her head, attempting to rid it of all thoughts of rest, then takes a moment to regain her bearings, slipping her shoes on again and reminding herself what night it is.

"Your husband is waiting, Mrs Donaghy," Billie whispers, leaning down to take Jack Jnr off her shoulder, where he has found his way around the muslin and is drooling contentedly on her new dress.

Liz gets to her feet, carefully handing Billie the baby. "You've got our cell numbers?"

Billie nods. "Both of them." She hands her a wet wipe. "Here."

Liz dabs at the drool a few times then hisses lowly: "Can you see it?"

"Hardly at all," Billie smiles. "You look great. Have a great time."

Liz smiles: "Thanks." And kisses both baby foreheads before tiptoeing out the door.

Jack is waiting at the door, phone at his ear, trying to bribe his way into a restaurant. He turns, ending the call as she approaches. Her eyes run over him as his run over her, something old igniting between them. And she notices that, just as she dressed for him, he has also dressed for her. He's in the black suit she likes, with the blue shirt that makes his eyes look even bluer. Also, normally Jack would wear a tie to dinner, it's ingrained in him. But he knows she prefers him without, his shirt open a little at the collar.

"Well, well," she muses as she nears him: "Hellooo husband."

"Hello wife," he returns and pulls her into his arms.

He looks at her a moment before leaning in, fitting his lips against hers then kissing her, slow and deep and deliberate. Her hands move up his arms, around his shoulders as she closes her eyes, relishing what she didn't realize she'd missed so much. The time and space and luxury of this. His big, warm palms move over her back and down her sides, touching her hungrily, tracing her shape, undisguised in their need. If she knows Jack anything like she thinks she does, he's probably even more in need of this than she is, especially considering how long he's had to withhold. But now that things are settling into some new version of normalcy, she doesn't see any reason why either of them should have to withhold, why either of them shouldn't be free to relish this.

Privately, she has felt a little hesitant about re-initiating their sex life. And not just because of the extra pounds she's carrying, the obvious changes to her body, which frankly, Jack does not seem to mind so much. But because it was so good before. So, so good. Unlike anything she'd ever had in her life. After such a long friendship, their taste for each other at first seemed utterly insatiable. But perhaps that was true of most relationships. Perhaps it was normal that that didn't remain true. Not that Jack ever stopped looking at her with lust, and not that she ever ceased wanting him. It's not that they lost that passion. It just got buried under other things, other stresses, big and small, other more pressing priorities. She hopes it's only been lying dormant for awhile, waiting until the dust settled. And now that it has, she just wants it to be good again, she wants them to feel new again.

"Hey…" She pulls back to look at him, licking her lips, liking the taste of him there: "So you…wanna fool around later?"

Jack smirks, eyes roving over her face with both lust and affection. "Do _you_ wanna fool around later?"

"I do if you do," she says with a little laugh. "We could even do the full version. If you want. Who needs sleep, right?"

Jack hums, leaning in to kiss her again. But he's interrupted by Billie, who appears at the nursery door.

"Hey, you'd better get going Donaghys." She taps her watch with two fingers. "The twins are due to be fed again in three hours."

"Thanks Billie," Jack nods. "I'll have her back before curfew, I promise." He places a hand on her back, guiding her toward the door.

"That reminds me," Liz says, grabbing her purse as they exit: "Don't grab my boobs tonight, okay?"

Jack looks at her funny, brows half raised. "Do I usually manhandle you in such a way in crowded restaurants?"

She shrugs, pressing the button for the elevator. "I'm just saying…I don't wanna leak on my dress."

"Fair enough," Jack murmurs, then cocks his head at her. "Can I grope your ass in the elevator though?"

She shrugs. "Well, of course."

Jack does grope her ass, after they board, completely unashamedly too. They are alone, thankfully, and it isn't so much groping as it is some light teasing. As the elevator starts to descends, so does his hand, drifting down her spine and circling then cupping each cheek as if he can't decide which one he likes best. He finally settles on one (the left one) before leaning in to kiss her neck, his breath hot on the sensitive spot just below her ear. Liz turns her head, grazing her cheek over his as he whispers:

"No spanx tonight, wife?"

She groans, ducking her head. "They don't fit," she mutters: "And I absolutely refuse to buy the next size up."

Jack makes an approving noise in the back of his throat, kissing her neck again. "Lucky me."

She snorts, whacking his chest with the back of her hand as the elevator doors slide open on the ground floor. Jack's hand drops from her ass, capturing her abusive hand and weaving his fingers with hers as they step off. Liz casts him a smile, liking the way his wedding ring feels pressed against the skin of her hand. Jack gives her hand a squeeze as they head towards the outer doors, leaving the building alone for the first time in what seems like years.

"This is a great idea," he announces, drawing in a breath as though he's sniffing the outside air. "We should do this every week. From now on. What d'you say?"

"Every week?" she repeats, touched but incredulous. "I think that might be pushing it a little, Jack."

Jack pushes the door open, holding it for her but still retaining her hand. "Well…how about once a month, just you and I? With the chance of a little fooling around afterwards?"

Liz smiles at him. Then leans up, kissing him as she passes. "It's a date."

_END._


End file.
